I happened to see a notice online that this upcoming Tuesday is National Pancake Day. I thought about going out next Tuesday for a post here on MBIP but I have next week kind of all lined up with ideas, so I thought we’d celebrate early and go to the International House of Pancakes over on Big Hollow Road for a Thursday night pancake dinner. I pass by this place almost every day when I go to work, but I’ve never stopped in. I don’t eat a lot at chain restaurants, but this is the only IHOP in Peoria and in (early) honor of National Pancake Day, I thought we’d give it a try tonight, so it’s off we go!

Here we are at International House of Pancakes or as they like to call themselves, “IHOP.” Personally, if I had a restaurant I would never refer to it as, “IHOP,” because it makes me think of a swarm of crippled diners that have all lost their crutches and wheelchairs and are struggling in a horrific manner to get inside to feed their crippled bodies. Not that there’s anything wrong with cripples...well, actually there is—they’re crippled...but let’s just keep going forward, I’m starting to lose my appetite already!

That sign in the window reminds me of the reason we came here tonight, so let’s go inside and just ignore that big bag of salt propped up against the door over there. And yes, that bag of salt really bothers me, but let’s just try and forget it and keep moving along here.

Once inside the foyer i saw a picture hanging over in the corner that caught my eye. It’s a picture of a Cheeseburger Omelette and it is really grossing me out so badly! I’m not trying to be crude here, but it looks like someone ate an abortion and then vomited it up and wrapped it in a two-bit tortilla and squirted mustard and ketchup all over it in a most haphazard manner. Ugh! I looked into the main dining area and heard screams from little kids and really thought about leaving. But against my better judgement, I decided to brave this storm of abortion-styled food and little kid screams and ventured inside for our pancake dinner.

I decided to sit in a booth over here away from that kid-infested main dining area, but check out the little fucker in the baby chair staring at me! I fuzzed his little sickening face out because I don’t like putting pictures of babies and children on the blog because...well, I can’t stand most babies and children and this little asshole is no exception to that rule. In addition to staring at me, he alternately screamed and cried the whole time I was in here. Well, let’s just sit down at this booth and be thankful I’m deaf in my left ear.

I sat down at the booth and picked up a menu, turned it over and there’s that goddamned Cheeseburger Abortion Omelette again! There’s no fucking escape! I set it down and looked to my right and...

There it is again! Attention International House of Fucking Pancakes, I don’t want to eat your fucking Cheeseburger Abortion Omelettes and this constant signage you keep throwing at me isn’t going to change my mind so just fucking stop it already! Sheesh! Let’s just open the menu and figure out what kind of pancakes to order and get this fucking dinner over with already!

Aaaahhhh!

As if this constant barrage of Abortion Omelettes wasn’t enough to make you sick, there’s also a constant clink-clanking noise from dishes and people in the kitchen. Plus there’s also that screaming, crying Satan child behind me and little kids keep running by the booth all hopped up on sugar from their pancake and waffle dinners. Maybe they should get rid of the Abortion Omelettes and just put an abortion clinic in here and cut out the middle-man. But I digress...

As I sat under this single light hovering over my booth which made me feel like I was in an interrogation room, a waitress finally came up and took my order. I asked her for an order of pancakes and she asked me what kind and I just told her, “The quickest kind,” and she suggested a short stack of Buttermilk Pancakes. So I took her up on her offer and I hope they show up quickly so I can get out of this International House of Horrors!

Well, she was right, the pancakes arrived shortly after I ordered them, but notice how they’re just plopped willy-nilly on the plate all off center and everything. Plus there’s a big honking blob of butter on top of them. I prefer to put my own butter on my pancakes and I like it melted so I started moving it around to facilitate the melting process.

I finally got the butter all melted and then noticed what that blob of butter was concealing, there’s a hole in the top of my pancakes! These are leper pancakes! I think I’d prefer to eat an abortion!

Well, I poured some syrup over them but it only accentuated the leper hole on top. Against my better judgement I tried a bite of them...

Wow, these are really fucking horrible tasting pancakes! They have a sickening chalky flavor to them and it tastes like skin from a leper after he’s had to clean off a chalkboard for being naughty in leper school. Between the abortion omelettes and these chalky leper pancakes they should rename this place to, “International House of Medical Procedures Gone Horribly Awry.” In retrospect I guess this wasn’t a very good idea at all. Oh well, at least it’s over now. We’ll see you all tomorrow!